


Rings

by Myka, UnholyNightmare



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blood, Dark Victor Nikiforov, Goretober 2019, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Violence, dislocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 11:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21207866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myka/pseuds/Myka, https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnholyNightmare/pseuds/UnholyNightmare
Summary: The rings are absolutely perfect, and Yuuri buys them, so excited to see the look on Victor’s face when he opens them.Yuuri isn’t counting on coming home to a Victor he doesn’t recognize.A Victor who is ready to punish him.





	Rings

**Author's Note:**

> Goretober Day 16: Torture
> 
> Please read the tags. Consider yourself warned.

* * *

The small bag is light in Yuuri’s hand, but that only makes him grip it tighter and closer to his chest, the nervous swell of anticipation in his belly growing with every step.

He’d been walking by the small Christmas market every day for the past few weeks and the little shop with the beautifully delicate rings caught his eye every time.

He always thought about them, but always resisted.

But something about today had been different.

Maybe it was the burgeoning scent of cinnamon in the air from the mulled wine just down the street. Maybe it was the rosy cheeks and excited chatter of children all around, excited for the holiday.

He’d stopped this time at the little shop, let his fingertips brush against the shining rose gold, and then without pausing to even consider a single thought, he’d purchased the two rings. It cost more than he intended, but the shopkeeper had wrapped them up in a beautiful box, and Yuuri didn’t have a single regret.

They were the perfect birthday gift, and he couldn’t wait to see Victor’s reaction in a few days.

Yuuri’s feet pad to a stop, the crunching of snow subtle now, near the worn path of Victor’s apartment. He pauses to pull back his hat down over his ears. Then smiles and goes up the steps, opening the door.

Victor’s apartment is so much larger than Yuuri’s home back in Japan, and so much more sterile.

Everything is black, or grey, or white–there is so little color that sometimes, if he closes his eyes, he feels as though he is being washed away.

This only happens when he’s alone in the apartment, though.

When Victor is here?

The blue in his eyes is bright enough to light the entire space.

Yuuri reaches into his pocket and pulls out the tiny silver key, that Victor had given him just a few weeks ago and turns it in the lock, pushing the door open, and entering the apartment.

Makkachin comes bounding out from the kitchen, tail wagging and eyes alight. Yuuri quickly puts the bag up on the small table by the door before crouching down and greeting the pup. 

“Hey, boy,” Yuuri murmurs, as his fingers tangle in Makkachin’s soft fur. The poodle whines once in greeting, then trots back to the kitchen, waiting faithfully for Victor.

Yuuri smiles, then unbuttons his long wool coat, and hangs it on the rack. “Victor?” he calls, slipping out of his shoes, and then walking to the dining room table. “Victor?”

“You’re late.”

The voice is right behind him and Yuuri’s heart jumps as he turns to find Victor standing right there. “Hey!” he says, heart still beating quickly from surprise. “I didn’t hear you!” He rises up on the balls of his feet to reach for Victor and pull him down for a kiss, but Victor just pushes a hand out against Yuuri’s chest, solid, unyielding, holding him back. “Victor?” Yuuri asks, tilting his head in surprise.

“Did you buy something?” Victor’s voice is strangely cold, and Yuuri fidgets, eyeing the bag. He can't’ let Victor see the rings yet. He wants it to be a surprise.

“Nothing,” he lies. “Just a handkerchief for my mom—”

“You’re lying.”

The accusation is so sudden that Yuuri flinches and takes a step back.

Victor suddenly snatches his wrist and starts dragging him to the back of the apartment. They reach the basement door and Victor uses a key to unlock it, and they start down the dark steps.

Yuuri’s never been down to the basement before. He’s never even questioned that there is a door by the living room that always remains locked. Yuuri’s just never found himself curious enough to push Victor on the matter.

Now, though, as they descend into the dark, his heart starts to beat fast, his palms start to sweat. The staircase are just a normal, wooden slatted basement staircase, but Victor had closed the door behind them so fast that Yuuri hadn’t gotten a single glance until they were both plunged into darkness. He can’t see the bottom, and the blackness is so complete around them that it’s oppressive, that he almost can’t breathe.

“Victor?” Yuuri asks. Victor’s hand just clenches even harder around his wrist, so tight that Yuuri gasps in pain. “Victor it hurts!” 

“Stand here.”

The grip loosens suddenly and Yuuri is left in the dark. He can hear Victor walking confidently from him, but he can’t see anything, he has no perception of where anything is at all. It’s like drowning. He’s never done well in small or dark spaces, his heart rate is already ratcheting up, his anxiety is rising, he’s going to panic, he– 

The lights flick on, and Yuuri clamps a hand against his mouth.

There are chains hanging from the ceiling with rusting metal cuffs and varying hooks and metal chain fixtures in the floor. He can see a few different tables and benches throughout the room. One, near the middle of everything, is full of holes, and within each of these holes lies a screw as sharp as a knife.

In one corner there’s a chain link cage that looks as though it might be meant for a dog, but is much, much smaller.

The walls are all bare cement, shining with polish, and the entire perimeter of the room is lined by beautiful marble countertops. On the far side, there is an opening cut out that is filled by a large basin–big enough to fit an entire human inside.

There is machinery, and tools, and small surgical items all mounted precisely along the walls.

And everything but the concrete floors—that are tinged a dull, dark brown—sparkles clean in the bright, white light that Victor had just flipped on.

It’s a torture chamber.

He’s standing in a torture chamber.

Yuuri swallows hard, trying to still the shaking in his hands. “Victor?” he asks, voice small and unsure.

Victor’s hands clamp down on his shoulders hard. “You see,” he says, his mouth right next to Yuuri’s ear. “I have a place for people who betray me. I didn’t want to show you this. I didn’t want you to have to see. But you’ve given me no choice.”

“I…” Yuuri is frozen, blank, has no idea what’s going on. “I don’t–”

Victor shoves him forward and he bumps up against a second, smaller table, that looks as though it was supposed to be used as one of those foldable massage beds.

Instead, it has thick straps sewn into it, and they are stained the same dark brown. “Victor?” Yuuri asks again, his voice rising in panic. He starts to turn, and– 

_ Smack. _

There’s a moment of blackness, and then pain in his head, building, and building, and building–

“Don’t move.”

Victor’s voice is somewhere above him, and Yuuri realizes with mounting terror that he’s on the floor, that there’s a heavy wetness running into his eyes, that when he pushes his hand to his forehead, it comes away dark with blood.

Blood.

Victor has hit him with something hard, and he’s bleeding, and he’s dizzy, and he can’t seem to focus his eyes right. “Oh...god…” he manages, before turning over and throwing up all over the floor. “Oh…” he moans again, wiping a hand across his mouth.

“Not looking so good there, Yuuri,” Victor croons, kneeling down and brushing back the hair from Yuuri’s brow with delicate fingers. “Try listening. Don’t. Move.”

Yuuri doesn’t understand.

He doesn’t understand what is happening, what Victor is doing, where he even  _ is _ right now. He’d come off the snowy, Christmas be-decked streets, bought a birthday present for his boyfriend, and walked into a nightmare. “I need,” he murmurs, flinching as the pain in his head spikes with movement. “I need to...to go home…”

“You are home, Yuuri.” Victor’s grip tightens on Yuuri’s hair, and he pulls up, forcing Yuuri to look at him. “You  _ are _ home. But you betrayed me, and I’m sorry, but I have to punish you for that.”

Yuuri hisses as Victor keeps pulling, scrabbling at the ground to get a hand under himself and push up. He can’t think straight. Every time his brain catches on a line of Victor’s words, it explodes into a million tiny fragments. Nausea is roiling in his stomach again and he can smell his sick around them, bitter and awful. “Victor,” he forces out, voice trembling on the name. “Victor–”

Victor lets go, then grabs Yuuri by his waist and hauls him up on the table, faster than Yuuri can even see. “Wait,” he cries, kicking out at Victor, trying to scratch him, trying to hit, “wait, what...what...what are you doing...Victor…” he’s gasping in air, he can’t breathe– 

He can’t breathe!

“Victor, please,” he cries as Victor tries to push him down on the table, his voice already hoarse, the sucking, gasping of his lungs so loud around them. He throws his head to one side and then whines at the pain of it as there’s a ripping feeling at his temple. Blood starts sheeting into his eyes. “Wait–”

“Just. Stop. Fucking. Moving!” Victor screams in his face.

And Yuuri goes completely still. 

It’s terrifying. 

Victor has  _ never _ yelled, he’s  _ never _ lost his temper, he’s always cool, calm, collected. His blue eyes go icy if he’s angry, but his demeanor never changes. 

This is terrifying. Yuuri doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know what to do. His lower lip is trembling, and he looks away, suddenly very afraid that he might cry.

“Look at me.”

Victor’s voice is loud and authoritative. He pushes Yuuri down on the table and starts tightening straps over Yuuri’s belly, then his groin, and then his thighs.

Yuuri tries. He tries to look at Victor, but the terror is seeping into his bones, and tears are already pooling in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, but it’s so quiet Victor doesn't hear him. He doesn’t know what he did. He doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. “I’m sorry,” he says louder.

“That’s a start at least,” Victor says, in that cold, harsh tone. “Arm.”

Yuuri watches the small leather cuff in Victor’s hand, The back of the cuff is attached to a long wire that stretches across the room.

Yuuri knows that more than anything, he does not want his wrist attached to  _ that.  _

He wraps his arms around his chest, trying to ignore the way he’s shaking, trying to ignore how cold he suddenly is. “No,” he murmurs. “No, Victor–”

“Arm. Now.” The angry growl is back, and Yuuri shudders as he gives his left arm to Victor, closing his eyes tightly as Victor grabs it roughly then buckles the cuff around Yuuri’s wrists.

The wire still has plenty of give and Yuuri can move his arm to a point.

“Other arm,” Victor orders.

A sob escapes Yuuri’s lips. “Victor, Victor please…”

Victor doesn’t wait this time, just grabs Yuuri’s right arm and buckles it the cuff around it, same as the first.

Then he walks away from the table.

There’s a moment where all that Yuuri can hear is the  _ tap, tap, tap _ , of Victor’s shoes against the concrete. He’s choking in air as fast as he can, his chest rising and falling so quickly that he’s afraid his ribs might break. It’s cold, it’s terrifying, and–

The wires start to retract, and Yuuri’s arms pull taut.

“Victor!” he screams, panic heavy against him, terror flooding his veins. “Victor!”

They pull again, and it starts to hurt, not pain yet, but the promise of it. “Victor stop please!” he cries.

“I’d like you to apologize for what you did.”

The words are bodiless, the float around Yuuri like ghosts, like water vapor, and he breathes them in like smoke in his lungs, thick and choking.

He has no idea what he did.

He has no idea what he is supposed to say, what Victor wants from him, why he’s here, why there is a torture chamber underneath Victor’s beautiful apartment.

“Yuuri?” Victor calls, with a sing-song voice as he pulls on the cables slowly.

“I…” Yuuri gasps out, panic thick in his veins as the cuffs tighten around his wrist as they pull him. “I’m sorry!”

“I asked you what you were sorry for.”

“I…” Yurri tries to breathe deep, feeling his arms stretch unnaturally away from his body. But he can’t, his chest is heaving with fear. “I’m sorry that I...that I...I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know!” he gives into it, screaming words into the basement air. “I don’t know, Victor, please!”

The cables pull tighter, the cuffs press harder into Yuuri’s skin and suddenly, everything is pain.

Yuuri can’t breathe at all anymore, all he can do is scream, and scream, and scream— 

Victor pulls more and more and then–

It stops. 

Yuuri’s breath is ragged and sharp, and he’s whimpering, little, jagged cries that fill the air. He closes his eyes tight, and tries to ignore the tears that are falling down his cheeks. 

“Yuuri…” Victor calls again.

He sounds so normal.

So happy.

They could be cuddling on the couch right now, watching a movie together and he would say Yuuri’s name the same way, while carding a hand through Yuuri’s hair.

Sobbing, Yuuri presses his eyes closed tighter, trying to escape from this nightmare.

“Yuuri. I need an answer.”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri gasps out. His voice is so shaky he can barely understand himself through each syllable. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I’m sorry, I don’t...I don’t…”   
The suddenly the cords pull even tighter, Yuuri’s arms stretch, the pain so intense he tries to kick, then there’s a loud popping sound, Yuuri feels the crunch as his left arm separates at the shoulder socket. 

He’s screaming so loud he can’t hear anything else anymore, all he knows is the hideous pain that knives through his shoulder, down his arm and back again. 

And Victor still pulls, the cords refusing to let up, the fingers on his right arm desperate trying to grasp something to help. His skin feels like it’s going to rip and Yuuri’s certain his other shoulder is about to pop free, and then— 

It ends.

Victor loosens the ropes.

And Yuuri shrieks as his dislocated shoulder falls back down. 

“Answer?” Victor asks again.

Yuuri moans in pain, throwing his head back and forth, trying to gulp in air. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t see through the agony. “Please,” he sobs out, tears falling fast now. “Please…”

“I’ll give you a hint,” Victor says.

Yuuri goes as still as he can, trying to listen through his shuddering breaths. 

“You were late today. And I pulled your credit card charges. Now why do you need to apologize?”

He still can’t think straight, everything is fire with each inhalation of breath. He was late. Victor looked at his credit cards. Why?  _ Why, why, why, why– _

Yuuri shakes his head and tries to circle back to Victor’s words. He was late. He…

“Rings,” he pushes out from lips swollen from biting them. “Rings, I bought...for you...for you…”   
The tapping sound of Victor’s shoes is back, and he soon comes into view, leaning down over Yuuri. He presses hand against Yuuri’s cheek, wiping at his tears, and he’s so warm, and he smells like Victor, and…

He’s just pulled Yuuri’s arm from it’s socket and is looking down as though nothing is amiss at all.

Yuuri tears his eyes away from those cool blue orbs, and tries to relax, tries to let go of the tension that’s hardening every muscle in his body.

“Good,” Victor says, his hand still caressing Yuuri’s cheek. “Good. You shouldn’t have lied about it. You can’t keep things from me, it upsets me! I love you so much Yuuri,” he bends down and places a kiss over Yuuri’s right eye, just above the brown, so gentle, so caring.

Yuuri can’t focus past the first part.  _ You shouldn’t have lied about it. You shouldn’t have lied about it. You shouldn’t have lied about it.  _

It repeats through his head like a chorus to a song, over and over, and he can’t shake it.

It was only a white lie.

He didn’t do anything wrong.

But he’s here, and Victor’s hurting him, and he doesn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again.

“Where are they?” Victor asks, still leaning over him, still not releasing the straps, or Yuuri’s arms, or helping him at all.

“What?” Yuuri gasps.  _ Where are what? _

“The rings,  _ lyubov moya _ . Where are the rings you bought?”

Yuuri sniffles, the pain of his shoulder amping up again and making it hard to think. “Uh...umm…” he’s starting to panic again. He needs to answer or Victor might hurt him more, he might keep pulling, and pulling, and–

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri’s eyes snap back to Victor, and the man smiles above him–the same beautiful smile he’s always given Yuuri, full of love. “Uh…” he starts again, suddenly very cold. “Upstairs. In the white bag.”

Victor taps Yuuri on the forehead–a cursory thing–then turns and goes back up the stairs, the door shutting softly behind him. It’s only a minute or two of being alone, but that creeping feeling of abandonment is slithering up Yuuri’s spine, and with every second he’s finding it harder and harder to breathe.

Thankfully, the door opens again, and Victor appears with the bag, taking the stairs two at a time with a bright, happy smile on his face.

“Found it!” he calls cheerily, then he steps up to the table and unwraps the package, revealing a small white box.

It was only an hour ago that Yuuri had stood at the stall in the marketplace, watching the owner wrap it up, but now that he sees it again, it feels like another lifetime.

Victor holds the little white box reverently for a moment, and then opens it. Two silver rings lie within. Yuuri can’t take his eyes off of Victor’s face, watching for his reaction. Somewhere there is the Victor he loves. And somewhere there is the look in Victor’s eyes he wanted to see when he gave him the rings. A smile of happiness.

“They are so beautiful, Yuuri.” Victor grabs one of the rings and puts it on, then pulls out the other and pushes it on Yuuri’s finger. The sudden pulling of his arm hurts, but Yuuri tries not to wince. Victor leans over him and Yuuri’s heart skips a beat, but it’s not like before. It will never be like before.

“I love you so much, Yuuri.” Victor kisses his lips. “This means your mine forever.”

Yuuri swallows, though his mouth feels like sandpaper. “Yes,” he replies.

Victor kisses him again, harder and more insistent. Then he climbs atop the bed, straddling Yuuri’s body and kissing him more. Everything hurts.

Victor sits up and loosen the strap on Yuuri’s left leg. Then pulls a pair of scissors from his pocket and cuts off Yuuri’s pants and underwear. “Vi— Victor.” Yuuri tries. “I wanna go upstairs please. I think my arm is dislocated, please…”

Victor finishes cutting off the clothes and peels them off Yuuri’s skin, exposing his thighs and dick. “I’ll fix you up later,  _ lyubov moya _ . But first let me show you how much I love you and that I forgive you.”

“Victor please,” Yuuri begs. Some part of his brain is still trying to process everything. Some part is still hoping that this is just a crazy nightmare and he’ll wake up screaming to Victor– his Victor–holding him and rocking him, and smiling with love. 

A cold, wet finger presses against Yuuri’s ass and pushes inside. 

“I got some new lube from the shop, hope you like it.”

Yurri looks at the ceiling and tries to relax, but it’s not happening. This isn't happening. His arms are still tied. One shoulder is dislocated, his other arm is bruised and swelling more with every second. He’s still nauseous with every movement because of the head wound. And now…

And now…

Victor pushes a second finger inside and starts rubbing, right in that perfect place, right where it makes Yuuri squirm in pleasure. His dick reacts within seconds and the shame is almost instant. He wants to scream that  _ no, this isn’t the person we love. The person we love would never do this to us _ , but it doesn’t matter. He’s still growing hard. Victor just smiles bigger and pulls his fingers out. “See? I know what you like, my love.”

Grabbing Yuuri’s left leg and hoisting it up over his shoulder, Victor lines the tip of his cock up to Yuuri’s entrance and starts to push in. “Oh….” Victor groans. “Your insides are always so warm.” He doesn’t let Yuuri adjust to the intrusion, he’s barely prepped him at all, and the stretch is too much, it hurts! Yuuri pulls against the straps still holding his wrists and grits his teeth at the feeling of Victor sliding inside him, filling him, breaking him.

Sex has never been painful with Victor before. Never.

But now, with every centimeter Victor pushes, with every moan he gives, it’s tearing, searing pain, until Victor is balls deep inside him.

Victor’s murmuring Russian words that Yuuri still doesn’t understand, and then he leans forward, somehow going even deeper still and Yuuri gasps. 

“You like my cock don’t you, love?” Victor kisses the corner of Yuuri’s mouth.

A small breath gets caught in Yuuri’s throat. His fingers shake. He knows what Victor wants to hear, they’re words he’s said before deep in the night of their bedroom, as the moon shines bright. “I love it,” he whimpers, holding back tears and pushing forth a smile. “I love when you fuck me.”

Victor kisses him roughly and starts thrusting into him harder, and harder. Yuuri can feel slickness there with the pain, he knows that blood has started to spill with every thrust, and something between a scream and a cry escapes his lips.

Then Victor’s hands wrap around his throat. Squeezing until Yuuri can’t breath. “You’re mine, Yuuri. Mine.”

“—’m yours.” Yuuri chokes. “Yours.” Tears well in his eyes, and they spill down his cheeks. The sickening sound of skin on skin is so insanely loud every time Victor’s thrusts into him. It’s so deep inside him it feels as if Victor is fucking his guts. It hurts so much. It hurts, it hurts— 

With a low groan Victor cums.

Nausea rolls over Yuuri as Victor stills, the cum warm and thick inside him.

And he has no idea what’s just happened.

He came home. 

He came home and then…

Then...

It takes a moment, but then Victor pulls out kissing him again. Kissing, and kissing, and Yuuri wants to fade from this place more than anything.

He’s dizzy and tired, and so cold. Minutes seem to pass, and then Victor is loosening the straps and his arms and legs are freed. 

He’s free.

But he can’t run.

He can’t do anything.

Without warning Victor wraps warm hands around his shoulder and ribs, and then jerks, popping Yuuri’s dislocated shoulder back in. Yuuri screams, then quickly bites his tongue to stop the sound. He’s expecting Victor to get angry, to slap him and tell him he’s wrong. That he’s bad. But he can’t help the tears that are falling again, from the pain, from the fear.

Victor just smiles again, then kisses his brow gently.

And that is somehow worse.

That he’s acting as though this is normal. As though nothing has happened.

“I know it hurts, love,” he murmurs in Yuuri’s ear. “I know. But you learned your lesson. You needed to learn it.”

“I…” Yuuri tries to talk, but nothing comes. The only sound he’s making are soft sniffles, as he continues to quietly cry.

Victor wraps his arms around him gently and picks him up. Holding him like a precious thing. And as they start to leave Yuuri can see the table he was just in. The blood on it and darkness swims across his vision forcing him to hold on tighter to Victor.

Victor smiles. “Everything will be perfect from now on.” He kisses Yuuri’s brow. “I love you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri clings to him, and adrenaline is still pumping through his body, causing him to shiver uncontrollably.

“Yuuri?” Victor prompts.

“I love you too, Victor.” Yuuri whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> Find us on Twitter:  
[Agentcoop](twitter.com/agentcoop1)  
[Myka](https://twitter.com/mykafl)


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